


Nobody Can Save Me Now (It's a Battle Cry)

by midnightoasis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, also i suck at tagging, how do tag, i had an idea and i just started writing, idek what this is tbh, just go with it ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightoasis/pseuds/midnightoasis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange feeling twists in Bellamy's stomach, then. The way Murphy grips his knife and sets his shoulders; but then he thinks Murphy isn't that stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Can Save Me Now (It's a Battle Cry)

**Bellamy**

**+**

They've been walking forever. Or, at least it seems that way. Clarke's in the front, like she fucking owns the place (probably thinks she does; she's a _princess_ ) and Wells is on her ass like a goddamn lovesick puppy. Finn's not too far from them, Bellamy can hear his irritating voice from ten steps behind them all, the gun at his hip burning a hole into his side. His fingers twitch towards it, like he wants to use it (he sort of _does_ , if it would shut them up) but he fists his hand and Murphy catches the movement.

"I say we get rid of them," he offers with that shit-eating smirk Bellamy's been forced to get used to. He's got a knife in the belt loop of his jeans and one glued to his hand. Bellamy doesn't comment on how his grip tightens when he speaks; doesn't so much as flinch at how easy it is for Murphy to suggest something like that. Instead, he half-grins because the kid's got balls (but not enough brains to match his bravado). "You said it yourself. The Ark thinks the prince is dead, we can't make the princess take off her wristband, why not just kill them both? Two birds one stone- or whatever the fuck that saying was. You know? It would make our lives a hell of a lot easier."

"Say we do that, and they," Bellamy glares up at the sky, thinks _the real royalty_ , "come down anyway, just for shits and giggles, right? Because I doubt the chancellor and Councilwoman Abby would even so much as accept the fact that their kids are dead, and they find out we killed them. I don't think you wanna know what they do to murderers."

"I know what they do to murderers," Murphy shakes his head, scoffs. "They let 'em sit on the council and call themselves Chancellor."

"Right," Bellamy coughs. Murphy isn't wrong, but he doesn't know what else to say so he clears his throat, squares his shoulders as Clarke glances back for the briefest of seconds and feels his chest tighten with disdain. "Let's just get through today, Murph. After that, the Ark's royals won't be a problem. And neither will Clarke's wristband."

"Even if it means cutting off her hand to get it." Murphy chuckles, a cruel smile breaking out over his face. "Got it."

A strange feeling twists in Bellamy's stomach, then. The way Murphy grips his knife and sets his shoulders worries him some; but then he thinks that Murphy isn't _that_ stupid. He's a follower.

When a leader says the word, the word is law.

**-**

The sun feels nice here. It's not like it is on the Ark. He can actually _feel_ it. The slow burn (that isn't even a burn- it's _warmth_ ), the way it draws out the cold and makes him sweat; makes his hair stick to his forehead, makes his shirt become a second skin. He had time to appreciate it when they first landed the day before, but this- wandering around the forest looking for some fucking kid who got himself napped- it feels better than yesterday. It feels almost welcoming.

They approach a small waterfall with a pond and Bellamy hesitates, pretending to stand back and enjoy the sun. A) because Octavia literally just got attacked by some giant-snake-thing not 24 hours ago and, b) he doesn't know how to swim. In fact, neither of them do. So what the fuck are Clarke and Finn doing prancing around in the pond like they know what they're doing?

"Seriously?" he mutters under his breath, shakes his head. "Idiots."

"You don't know how to swim, either, Bellamy." a voice rumbles from behind him. Wells is standing awkwardly near a tree, hands in his pockets like he doesn't know what to do with them, and Bellamy wants to laugh at the way he's openly staring at Clarke. Kid's got it so bad.

"You don't see _me_ in there, do you?" Bellamy says instead, because he's not going to torture the guy. He's pretty sure Clarke does that all on her own. Crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes (Wells is still the chancellor's son, he remembers suddenly- _the prince_ \- so the hate he feels swells in the pit of his stomach, doesn't go away entirely. Not long enough for him to feel bad, anyway), he continues. "If they want to drown, I'm not gonna stop them. Actually it's better for me that way. Then I won't have to force that wristband off your girlfriend's arm."

"She's not my girlfriend." Wells grumbles, looking every bit as if Bellamy had struck him- as he did when Murphy decided he wanted a knife fight. "She's just my- my... I don't know what she is anymore."

There's a part of Bellamy that sorely wants to comment on that. To tell Wells that she's his goddamned princess and they deserve each other, but. He doesn't. He rolls his eyes and gives Wells a raised eyebrow to stifle the sentence.

"You're in love with her," he shrugs, just to fucking mess with the kid a bit and (okay- so it's a _little_ torturous, he can't help it) Wells gapes and stutters, tries to grasp with desperate hands something to say. He doesn't get the chance because Bellamy runs with it, smirking. "You love her and she hates you, so you chase after her with your tail tucked between your fucking legs. God, Wells. Grow a pair and tell her how you feel."

"I can't," Wells slumps his shoulders and it's as if he isn't even talking to Bellamy anymore. His voice is so weak, so soft and low that Bellamy thinks he stepped into a private conversation between Wells and a priest. "She doesn't see me anymore. All she sees is betrayal."

"Maybe you shouldn't have betrayed her, then." Bellamy retorts without even a thought as to what the betrayal actually was. Wells shoots him a glare, like he's forgotten Bellamy was even there, and then takes off, huffing and clenching his fists. There's a moment where Bellamy feels like he stepped over a line. He might even feel, dare he think it, _bad_. But, then he thinks of his mom and Chancellor Jaha's face clouds his vision and suddenly, he doesn't care. Not even a little.

Sighing heavily, he runs a hand through his hair. It's barely been a day and he's already so done with this entire thing. If they just had a fucking lead, they wouldn't be sniffing the ground with no way of knowing if they were even going the right way. What the hell kind of rescue mission is this?

"A useless one," he grunts, palms the blade of the axe on his belt. In the distance, Clarke washes her face with water and the silver on her wrist gleams in the sun, causing Bellamy to snort. He was going to to get that stupid thing off of her.

He just has to figure out how.

-

There's a trail of blood, spotted and smeared on rocks near the shore a little ways down. Clarke is the one to find it. They follow in a sort of intense silence that is only interrupted every so often when they lose the trail and Finn picks it up again.

They find the kid- _Jasper_ , Bellamy reminds himself- when the sun begins to fade into the horizon and there are blisters on everyone's feet. Everything that happens next is difficult and dangerous and Bellamy can't _believe_ his luck sometimes. He lugs the jaguar back with Murphy, heart still pounding like it's gonna wake up and eat his face. So, when the sun disappears completely and Clarke suggests they stop for the night ("We can't risk moving Jasper with the sun down; we have no idea where we're going now that we can't see. I think it's best we make camp for the night. I'll do what I can for Jasper.") he's more than happy to toss the beast off to the side once they find a cave big enough to shelter Jasper. He doesn't even mind that there's no room for him in it. He's dead tired and the ground looks about as good as any bed he could ever make himself.

Murphy grumbles about the accommodations, says he'd rather sleep in a fucking tree, and Finn points out that he's more than welcome to take his pick from the thousands surrounding them. Murphy just scoffs, plops himself down next to Bellamy with his knife tight in the palm of his hand. Again. "Fucking Spacewalker," Murphy growls (or, tries to- it doesn't sound quite right coming from the back of his throat). "He helps save a guy that's already half dead and he thinks he can tell us shit."

"Forget him," Bellamy waves a hand, pinches the bridge of his nose to stop the headache he can feel coming on. "Let him think he's got some control."

Murphy pauses, waits for the punchline and when Bellamy doesn't come back with one, he snorts a little. "Whatever the hell you want."

Bellamy ignores the jab- he's way too exhausted to put up with it at this point. They're sitting on the ground outside of the cave and the noise Jasper is making sends Bellamy's nerves off the edge. He's wired (and he doesn't know how he _can be_ when every muscle and bone in his body sings out if he so much as shifts his weight from one fucking ass cheek to the other). The moaning coming from within has him thinking they'll all be dead by morning. The grounders will hear Jasper and there will be spears with each of their names on it.

"Shut him up," he grinds out after ten minutes of the bullshit. "His wailing isn't gonna do us any good."

"He's in pain, Bellamy," Clarke says. Her voice is a pitch higher than usual, so Bellamy thinks she's stressed; can see it in the way she doesn't even turn to glare at him when he snorts. "The paste the grounders put on him seems to be helping, but... It's hard to tell what it is."

 _I don't care_ , he thinks with a pointed sniffle. _Just shut him up, now_.

"Three birds," Murphy whispers and Bellamy turns to raise an eyebrow. "One stone, bossman."

He wants to roll his eyes because he's seriously not in the mood for this fucking nonsense. Shaking his head slightly, he leans in close so that Finn and Wells, who've been sitting on the outside of the cave keeping a close eye on the two inside ever since they got there, can't hear him say, "We're not killing them. You got it?"

"Seriously?" Murphy asks, most likely in disbelief that his fearless leader cowers at the thought of not taking the chance to kill two of the most important people on the Ark. The people who had the power to float someone with just a nod of the head. Bellamy almost tells him that they're not on the Ark anymore, that down here they were no better than anyone else. (Except for the fact that he doesn't really think it's true.) So, he keeps quiet. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders when he started biting his tongue- when he started minding his words. Leaders don't do that. (Nevermind the fact that he's only been leading these people for a day.)

When Bellamy doesn't say anything else, Murphy clears his throat and says, "So how the hell are we going to get that wristband?"

He's had a plan brewing in his head since they stopped; it's not _brilliant_ but if they can be quick about it, it's as good as done. They'd just need to get past Wells and Finn. Wait until they're asleep, or if one of them is on watch, Murphy could hold him down while Bellamy slipped into the cave. It would have to be Bellamy; he knew how to get the band off faster than Murphy and he's stronger. If Clarke woke up (he assumes she'll be sleeping), it wouldn't be hard to make sure she didn't move so much that she woke whoever was sleeping. Murphy is strong but Bellamy doesn't doubt Clarke could beat the shit out of him if she really tried.

Finn is the first on watch; after the moon is high and Bellamy's lost track of time, they decide the rotations. Wells falls asleep against the entrance of the cave, his back propped up so he's sitting, head lolled to the side. Finn's got a piece of wood in his hand, a knife in the other, looking to be carving something out of it. They don't have a fire, the moonlight only just illuminates his slouched figure in the dark. Murphy had said he was going for a piss, walking off and giving Bellamy a nod. Their plan was in action.

Bellamy breathes deep, brings his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees. Finn hears the rustle and glances over.

"What?" Bellamy grunts. He'd gotten his axe out when Murphy slipped away, now turning it in his fingers.

"Nothing," Finn shakes his head, and then a moment later, he seems to gather the courage to say, "Why do they even follow you? You're not even a good leader."

Shrugging in response, Bellamy tilts his head to the side. "Maybe it's the way I take charge. People follow confidence, not rules and consequences. Look how good that worked out on the Ark. All those people being sent to the ground because they stole medicine their dad needed or because of some other shitty fucking excuse the council found to lock up these kids. Tell me, do you really think any of these so-called delinquents would follow the son of the man who floated their parents? Or even the resident princess, who's mother is on the council that sent them here in the first place? I don't think so."

Finn looks about ready to argue, and Bellamy fully expects him to. People have been doubting him his whole life, looking down their noses and squinting like he was some bug on their shoe. It's something he's used to- has a repertoire of comebacks just in case he needs them, until Murphy appears from the shadows, silent and focused. Bellamy shoves down whatever he was about to say and watches Murphy begin their plan. His arm traps Finn's head on the inside of his elbow, his other hand clamping down to drown out any noise Finn is about to make. His eyes go wide, hands clawing at Murphy's arm to scramble for purchase. Bellamy nods once, tells him, "Keep an eye on Wells," when Finn somehow manages to reach his knife.

See, when things go wrong for Bellamy, they go _wrong_. They always have. There is absolutely no in between. It's as if the universe knows Bellamy Blake is all or nothing, and goes with it even as the situations he's put in goes to shit. So, when Finn slices a gash into Murphy's thigh, Bellamy just reacts like he was expecting it (he wasn't, but it's hardly the time to panic, not with Finn on the verge of ruining the plan he'd set on).

Lunging at the knife in his hand, Bellamy wraps a rough fist around Finn's wrist and jerks his head towards the cave, hoping Murphy gets his drift. Not a second later, the other ducks into the dark again, limping as the wound on his leg makes it difficult to walk. Bellamy doesn't have time to see Murphy disappear into the cave, only has attention for the way Finn's mouth opens to scream something. With the hand holding the knife, he brings it up to Finn's throat if only just to scare him, and covers the words that haven't left his lips with the palm of his free hand. He's sure his fingers digging into the skin are leaving bruises on the guy but there's no room to really care about that. Glancing down at the sleeping figure of Wells on the ground, he has a moment of pure relief. _Thank God he sleeps like he's dead_. It's a struggle with Finn, mostly because Bellamy is fucking tired _still_ , but also because the ground is slick with mud and moss and he can't get a grip long enough to keep Finn still.

It's strange, he thinks distractedly, how he can only just barely hear Jasper's groaning. Can't even hear Clarke's struggling. He's sure she'd kick and scream and- _there it is_. A shuffling of feet, the low murmur from Murphy as he tries to keep Clarke quiet while simultaneously working to get the band off. _Right, it's almost done_. If he could just stall long enough, he'll be golden. The Ark will think Clarke is dead, and there will be no need for any of them to come down here and ruin things. He can start his life over; with Octavia free and both of them unrestricted by shit dictators. They could be whoever they wanted to be because they'd have each other and no one else.

Just the idea _alone_ makes his heart soar and for a second his grip loosens. There is nothing else in the world except for that thought and all the possibilities Earth could offer until-

Until a blunt pain spreads through his hand as he realizes Finn's got his teeth into the skin of his palm. He thinks there's blood, his hand is dripping something sticky and wet and he wrenches away in disgust. As he's about ready to wind up and swing a punch to Finn's gut, not caring that his heavy breathing seems to be waking Wells from his slumber, they hear it. It's shrill and so _blood-curdling_ that everything seems to freeze.

Wells is definitely awake now, shooting to his feet so fast it makes _Bellamy_ dizzy. Finn's quicker than them both- knows it's coming from the cave and immediately runs inside. Wells is next and all Bellamy can think of is the sound of more screaming. It's so loud and eerie that he can't even begin to think about what's going on in the cave. Can't even move his feet to find out. But somehow he finds the nerve to walk (and for reasons unbeknownst to him, the words "even if it means cutting off her hand to get it" keeps repeating in his mind) and his stomach flips. Before he makes it to the cavity in the rocks that had been sheltering Clarke and Jasper, his hearing comes back to him and he can only just make out the yelling. More than one voice, more than one person angry and hysterical.

Finn comes out carrying a half-sobbing, half-screaming Clarke and Bellamy doesn't see it at first. He vaguely thinks that maybe nothing happened, that she just had a bad dream and she was being dramatic because she woke up to Murphy. He had her pegged as the type to need someone to lull her back to sleep when she had nightmares, but-

Then he _sees it_. Or, rather, the _lack of it_. She's clutching her arm to her chest, shoulders shaking, and when the moonlight hits her, he finally notices that where her hand had once been, there is nothing but a bloody stub. The bone sticks out jaggedly, painfully, and Finn is shouting at him words that don't make sense. Blood rushes in his ears. He can't think.

"What-?" he starts but doesn't get a word in when Wells appears, dragging Murphy along by the arms.

"You!" he shouts, and Bellamy almost flinches at how harsh the prince's voice is. He would be shocked if he wasn't already. "You did this- you- _you fucking put him up to this_ , didn't you?! This is because of you!"

"I didn't-"

"Don't lie!" Finn cuts in, his voice like a growl and just as hard as stone. "You wanted her wristband, this has _your name_ written all over it!"

"I didn't tell him to do that!" Bellamy yells back, his shoulders tense and tight with the thought of not being able to defend himself. It's amazing he finds his voice; he didn't think he could speak. Not as Clarke's shirt becomes drenched in her own blood. "I never wanted that!"

"You said-" Murphy starts, spitting blood onto the ground from the punch to his mouth that Wells must have given him and breathing as if he hadn't in a while. Wells makes a face and Bellamy clenches a fist around air as he tries to find his axe (he finally notices that it's in Murphy's hand now and anger flares bright in his chest), his other hand twitching towards his gun because this isn't what he fucking meant to do. "You said even if it meant cutting off her-"

"Shut up!" Bellamy steps forward the few steps it takes to reach Murphy and grabs his collar, yanks him out of Wells' arms and finds that his gun is pointed directly at Murphy's forehead. He doesn't remember grabbing it. "You were supposed to stick to the plan, John. This wasn't part of the plan!"

"I was doing what you couldn't!"

"You ever heard of an expression, Murphy?" Bellamy's head starts to reel with how much he wants to pull the trigger, his blood is boiling with anger and he's sweating, his grip on the gun tightening with every breath that he takes. He could end it, right here. Shoot this asshole in the head and be done with it. But instead, a voice makes him stop cold in his tracks, makes him turn to look at her, shell-shocked.

"Don't," Clarke sort of says (her words are choked out as she raises her handless arm in the air, blood rolling down and slightly pooling in the crook of her elbow), her blue eyes hooded and shining silver in the moonlight. Bellamy feels everything inside of him crumble at the sight. She continues, weak and ghostly, "Seal the wound... fire... camp... Jasper."

"We have to get her back to the dropship," Finn begins to hurry off in the direction he thinks they came and Wells nods frantically, leaving to get Jasper.

He doesn't know what happens after; can't remember much besides the feeling of lead in his veins, the heavy way he seems to walk (and he only just realizes that he's had Murphy by the scruff the whole way, gun pushed dangerously into his temple). All he sees is flashes of Clarke's arm, her clammy face, and her discarded hand on the ground, covered in mud. Somehow, though, the wristband had shone it's brightest in the moonlight. Like it was mocking Bellamy.

 _My fault_ , he thinks over and again, no matter how much he doesn't want to.

_This is all my fault._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Battle Cry by Imagine Dragons. Also, no beta so... any mistakes is all my fault. There might be mistakes. I'm a mess. 
> 
> Oh! Also, this is my first (posted) fic for The 100. Comments and constructive criticism would be lovely.


End file.
